


a detour from normal

by badAquatic



Series: Trailerstuck [68]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, F/M, Illnesses, M/M, Vomiting, discussion of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life post-Cherubs is a time of adjustment for everyone in the neighborhood, from the Strider trailer having a (temporary) new roommate, Dirk dealing with the separation from Jake, and  the curious presence of the latest addition to the trailer park.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. egbert's second night

**== >Karkat: Enjoy your Saturday night **

 

Saturday night is spent staving off boredom. You lay on the pull out couch and read _Troll Ai no Kusabi._ When you get tired of that, you write rough drafts for the next chapter of Atramentous Lineage; plotting future miseries for your characters and the twists and turns in the plot. John reads as well; muttering, highlighting, and annotating a variety of scripts. He’s still pallid and sweaty but not acting with a motivated purpose.

You’ve seen Egbert while he’s focused. He always struck you as an irritable little goof but here he is: reading scripts like the most diligent student. “So is this an average Saturday night in the life of a glamorous actor?” you ask.

“Yeah. Theatre is mostly a lot of late nights and sucking up.” John says, not looking up from the script. “ _The Tempest_ is going up in December so there’s a lot to be done. I got rehearsals all this week, check out props, set design gets finalized this month, technical get assembled and synchronized, and I have to kiss ass to the guys on the arts council if I want a scholarship. So yeah; this week is going to be a busy week _and gods this script is awful!_ ” John tosses the script he’s reading into the ‘awful’ pile with a grumble.  “Jegus take pity and send me competent writers…”

“I thought you liked bad movies?”  

“I love bad movies and bad plays but look at _this_!” John yanks a script from the ‘awful’ pile. “This play is called ‘Death Couch, the Couch that eats People: A Musical Love Story’.”

“Sounds awful.” You conclude.

“It _is_ awful but it’s trying too hard to be awful and that makes it unfunny _and_ awful.” John insists, “There’s a fine art to making something so bad its good but when you purposely go into the game making it bad, it loses its charm. The true art of bad plays and bad film is that you don’t go in there trying to _be_ bad. You’re there to entertain! If the actors are aware that the movie is bad, they lose the magic. Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t understand that mess of words, Thespian Human Kankri.”

“Is John talking about the fine art of bad movies and plays again?” Dave shouts from the bedroom.

“Yes. Are you two done trying to have really quiet sex?” you yell.  

“We aren’t!” Dave pauses. “The sex thing I mean. That is what I mean.”

“Rash boy isn’t allowed to touch me right now.” Jade says.

You roll your eyes and return to writing. “Strider’s dick must be ready to fall off. They haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“It’s so weird how you’re cool with this.” John mutters, “You’re like swingers and I’m like the square kid who just stumbled into your home.” He pauses. “Oh my gods. I’m living in the literal plot of _Rocky Horror._ All you need to do is wear a corset, Karkat.”

You smirk. “I think Dave’s hard-on it would rip his pants if I wore something that tight and sparkly.” That image is really tempting though. You kind of want to do it.

Jade walks out of the bedroom buttoning up a flannel shirt. If she’s breaking out the flannel, then you’re definitely running low on clean clothes. “If we’re doing _Rocky Horror_ can I be Columbia?”

John looks at Jade and then looks away. “ _Jade_! You have to warn people if your tits are out!”

“John, my tits are sore and _huge_.” Jade says, “I have to keep changing my shirts because I keep leaking milk through my bra. And”—she growls, struggling with the top button—“for fuck’s sake! This shirt doesn’t fit _either_!”

“All you need to do is tie the ends to show your stomach and Damara and you can match.” You say. You duck when Jade throws a shirt lying in the hall at your head. John’s face is still red and you roll your eyes. “Relax, Egbert. Everyone here has seen Jade’s tits at some point. It’s inevitable, like snow in a Tim Burton movie.”

“You didn’t even _see_ all of it.” Jade finally she succeeds in fastening the top and grins. “There! Harley one, shirt zero.”

“That looks…tight.” you say.

“I think ‘tight’ is too kind.” John mumbles.

“Its _fine_ , Karkat.” Jade insists. Then there’s a loud _pop!_ and the shirt flies open. You dodge as buttons fly across the room.

A button hits John on the face. He rubs the welt and glares at Jade. “I told you it was too tight and _oh my fuck_!”

“What’s John freaking out about now?” Dave asks.

“Now I can _definitely_ see your tits!” John says, covering his eyes.

“You can’t even see the whole thing. Calm _your_ tits.” Jade walks over to the end table, opening the drawer. “I know we have _safety_ pins around here…”

John looks away, his left eye twitching. “What has been seen cannot be unseen. What am I going to see next here? Dave’s dick?” He pauses. “Oh wait...”

You smirk. “Sounds like there’s a _story_ there.”

“No!” John says immediately, “There’s _no_ story because I was wasted.”

“Wasted? Oh, now I _have_ to know.” You laugh, putting down your notepad.

“Let’s just say play after-parties get crazy.” John mutters, turning his attention back to his scripts.

“Strider, did you learn your blowjob skills by practicing on John?” you call.

“ _What_?” Dave asks.

“ _No_!” John yells, “We didn’t practice on each other!”

“So who?” You laugh.

“I used a cucumber and Jade!” Dave insists.

You start laughing so hard you can’t even think of a sarcastic response.

“Not like _that_.” Jade says, now trying to pin her shirt closed. “I gave Dave pointers. According to Tavros, I give really good troll blowjobs.”

John opens his mouth, closes it, and then rubs his forehead. “I feel like I’ve stepped into The Twilight Zone. Everything outside is a conservative redneck paradise and in here it’s _Peewee’s Pansexual Playhouse._ ”

“Don’t forget the xeno part.” Jade succeeds in pinning and smiles. “Alright! One problem temporarily solved.”

You pick up your next volume of _Troll Ai no Kusabi,_ snickering. “Oh, having Egbert here is gonna be _fun_.”  

“Why’s Dave still in the bedroom? Did he run out of clean pants?” John asks.

“He did but that’s not why he’s in the bedroom.” Jade says, “His rash is getting worse so I’m sleeping in the baby’s room tonight since I’m not supposed to touch him.”

“I guess rashman will have his sexy adventures by himself tonight.” you chuckle. “I’ll stay out here with Egbert then.”

“How’s the baby’s room coming along?” John asks.

“It’s going _great_!” Jade smiles. “We put in a small bed, armchair, and TV for when I have to stay up with her. There’s only one problem…”

“Dave won’t let her put a gun rack in the room.” You whisper.

“A _gun rack_ in the baby room?” John asks.

“He wants to put in a sword rack but I say guns are safer!” Jade insists, “A sword can fall and cut off her teeny little head. If a gun falls on her, she’ll just be bruised a little.”

“I’m not putting a gun in my kid’s room!” Dave insists.

“Then no swords in there either, _Dave_!” Jade answers, going back into the bedroom.

“They’ve been arguing about it for _weeks_.” you tell John.

“Joy.” John sighs.

Without online distractions, you fall asleep at a reasonable time; nodding off during a re-read of _Pailing Madness_. You wake up at five in the morning and not because you’re fully rested, but there’s an unusual weight on you. You grunt and try to roll onto the back, but there’s something huddled up against you. You realize that not only is John Egbert cuddling you like you’re the world’s fluffiest teddy bear but his hands are on your heftsacks like he owns them. (Are you going to have to start wearing barbed wire over your heftsacks to prevent people from pawing at them?)

You debate about shoving him off. He’s not in your quadrants and you _definitely_ don’t wanthim in your quadrants, but he’s going through a rough time. He’s a friend dealing with grief and guilt so for tonight, you’ll let sleeping lusii lie. You start to fall back asleep…until you feel his erection press into you.

You immediately shove the human away. John snorts into awareness, muttering, “W-what? What’s going on?”

“Your cock is what’s going on!” you hiss, whispering so Jade and Dave don’t hear.

John rubs his eyes. “What…?”

“You were humping me in your sleep!” You hiss.

“Oh.” John’s face reddens. “That’s not my fault.”

“Explain to me how your hard cock poking me _isn’t_ your fault.”

“Awake John has no control over what sleeping John does with his penis. Also”—John fiddles with his hands, not looking at you—“you’re the same size as Rose.”

“Rose is _way_ shorter than me.”

“I mean width and breasts. _Having_ breasts, really.”

“Talking about my heftsacks is not making this situation any less awkward. I am not handing out handjobs just because you’re temporarily staying here. _Very_ temporarily.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that you do!” John insists but his face reddens even more.

“This is the _worst_ _time_ for complicated romantic shenanigans. You have a girlfriend and I am a _man_!”

“I know you’re a man but the tits are confusing! It makes my brain automatically think ‘girl’ and so does my cock!”

Your argument is steadily getting louder. You lower it back down, adding, “You still have a girlfriend!”

“Who’s not _here_ right now! Look. Karkat.” John runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m not interested in you but I…I’m _lonely_ , alright?  I didn’t even get a chance to kiss Rose when I saw her again.” He frowns. “I…I miss _holding_ someone.”

Gods fucking damn it you hate him so much right now John because one minute you want to wring his neck and the next you want to hug him. No wonder your middle school self wanted to quadrant with so badly but couldn’t decide if they hated or flushed him.

You lay back down, sighing. “It’s too early to argue. Just go to sleep, Egbert.”

John lies down, making sure to sleep on the other side of the bed. You sigh and move over, pulling him into a hug. This is a temporary mess. You’ve all been jumbled and displaced. Once the power comes back on, things will go back to normal and you can untangle from each other’s lives.


	2. a miserable sunday

You wake up at seven with a head cold and the sky hemorrhaging rain. During the night, the trailer’s temperature went from sweltering to cold as ice. Rain roars outside, hitting the ceiling and sides of the trailer. Water drizzles from behind the boarded up windows and plopping in the kitchen. You shake John awake so you can get duct tape and spare pots and pans so the trailer doesn’t take on water damage or mold. You go to the bathroom to get the Benadryl but it has a sour vomit stench. You grab the Benadryl form the cabinet and run out.

“Jade? Were you sick last night?” you ask.

Jade’s response is a snore from the baby’s room. A loud retching comes from the bedroom and you open the door just in time to see Strider puking his guts out into the trash can. Sweat runs down his face and he coughs, sputtering the last of acid and half-digested food into the can. The rash has spread from his back to his shoulders in a large splotch of inflamed and flaky skin.

“Looks like this situation is one thing you can’t take in stride.” you say.

“ _F-fuck_ …” is Dave’s gargled response as he continues vomiting.

If Strider’s too overwhelmed to sass you back, he must be intensely sick. 

“I’ll get the mop.” You sigh.

You start your Sunday with cleaning up after Strider. You’re now glad for the stuffed nose and sinus headache or you’d be a lot more pissed off. Jade temporarily relocates Dave to the couch so the bedroom can air out. John uses matches to light the stove and boils Jade’s non-caffeinated ginger root tea at Dave’s suggestion.

“This helps me with morning sickness.” Jade says, handing Dave a hot cup.

“It smells like ginger soda but gross.” Dave grunts.

“Strider, no soda while you’re like this.” you say, “How in the hell are you not diabetic and three hundred pounds? You have the eating habits of a drunk art student pothead.”

“I work out.” Dave sips the tea and winces. “Jade, can’t you add more sugar? Like a _pound_?”

“No! I already put in four scoops.” Jade growls.

Dave grumbles and keeps drinking.

Jade sits in her chair and starts cranking the kinetic batteries so she can charge her phone. “Dave, we should seriously take you to the hospital. Your rash is getting worse and now you’re vomiting. You could have parasites.”

“I don’t have parasites. I’m not a lusus.” Dave groans. Sonny Jr. whimpers and Dave sighs, “No, not you, buddy. You’re relatively parasite free.”

John returns from the bathroom and looks sheepish. “I’ve got bad news too…” He holds up his forearms, showing a speckled rash spreading from wrist to elbows.

“Crap, I _slept_ with you!” you groan. John’s ears turn red but you glare at him so he doesn’t comment on the double entendre.

“How could you _both_ have rashes though?” Jade asks.

You think for a minute. “They were both in the mud. John got knocked to the ground when the Cherubs ran his fucking ugly bumblebee motorbike off the road. Dave fell in the mud at some point. Oh gods…” You frown. “That means Kurloz is definitely infected and if he’s touched anyone else…”

“We don’t know that for sure.” Jade says, “I was in the mud too and I’m not rashy or vomiting. Well, not vomiting more than usual. John’s mother was in the mud too and Roxy touched her; same with Jake and Dirk.”

“A lot of touching went on.” you conclude. “I’ll go check out everyone else and maybe get some Alka-Seltzer for Strider since we’re out.”

“Alright. I’ll heat up breakfast.” Jade says.

Your investigation of the neighborhood doesn’t yield positive results. Kankri is rashy and nauseated. Terezi is fine though and watching over her matesprit. Sollux is developing an itchy rash and Eridan uses the opportunity to torment him about it. Eventually, Porrim and Horuss have to make their rounds through the neighborhood (again).

Porrim visits the Strider trailer and examines Dave wearing sterile gloves and a mask. She studies the growing rash, looks at Dave’s tongue and checks his eyes. She asks about symptoms, the duration, what improves or irritates his stomach.

“Parasitic infection.” Porrim concludes, “Several people in the park are testing positive for double-hookworm and other local parasites. It’s all this damn garbage really. Because of the garbage, there are more wild animals scavenging it. Not just the lusii and wild dogs but _rats_. They’re expelling waste laden with double-hookworm eggs and because of New Jack’s subtropical climate, they mature quickly. Anyone whose bare skin touched the mud may be contaminated.”

“But Kankri wasn’t in the mud during the fight and he’s sick.” You say.

“Parasites are only contagious through bodily fluids: blood, semen, saliva…that sort of thing.” Porrim says.

Jade pales. “What about me?”

“You’re in the later stages of pregnancy.” Porrim says, “It’d be a greater concern if you were only a few weeks in. Double-hookworm can cause spontaneous miscarriages in early pregnancies. You should just avoid touching Dave from now on until he’s parasite-free.”

“Can’t you just take me out back and shoot me?” Dave mumbles, lying on the pull-out bed.

“Dave, you’ve suffered how much pain and _this_ is the thing that makes you cry Uncle?” you ask.

“I have been shitting and puking all night.” Dave mutters, eyes still shut, “I would not wish this on my worst enemy.”

Porrim pats Dave on the head. “There’s plenty of over the counter medication you can take for parasites.” She looks at you. “You should also test yourself, Karkat, given that you’re Dave’s kismesis. Just because you’re not having symptoms now doesn’t mean you’re not infected.”

“Let’s just do this.” you sigh.

The test is simple. Porrim swishes a Q-tip in your mouth, places it on a strip, and waits for what color it’ll turn: red for negative and green for positive. Jade and you are both (thankfully) negative but John is positive. Porrim writes down a list of meds, hands out a pamphlet, and is off. The pamphlet is white and red with a cartoon worm on it, tipping its hat to the reader, saying ‘Hello, friend! I’m new in town!’. Underneath it is ‘So you have parasites…’ in bold font.

Jade volunteers to go to the pharmacy. “I really need fresh air. The trailer smells gross and it makes _me_ want to puke.”

“I’ll go with her.” You need fresh air too and you doubt Dave would want Jade walking around by herself. “John, can I trust you to take care of Dave and not take advantage of Dave’s delirious state?”

“I promise the first thing.” John answers.

“You couldn’t take care of a cat.” Dave grumbles.

“Could too, Davekat.” John says, smirking.

“Do not fucking call me that. I will stab all three of you with my sword.”

John rolls his eyes, “Yeah, you better hurry before the mighty Strider tries to slay me.”

You take a brief shower and leave the trailer with Jade, wearing one of her old shirts and ripped jeans since all your clothes are dirty. Outside, you see the second story is dark. Dirk’s truck is still in the driveway but there’s no sign of him.

You get into Jade’s car. “How do you think Dirk is doing?”

Jade shrugs, turning the key in the ignition. “Awful but there’s no way he’s going to talk to any of us. He’s like Dave. If something bothers them, they just bottle it up until they can talk to the right person. Dave talks to Rose about his issues. Dirk talks to, um…” She pulls out of the driveway, still thinking. “Well, not Roxy. I think they’re mad at each other though. John’s Mom is in the hospital and so is Jake… _oh wow_ , I don’t think Dirk has any friends.”

You think of Sergei but you’re not certain of his relationship with Dirk. Dirk is still guarded around him. “I don’t know either, but what do I know about quadrants or relationships?”

“Karkat, the odds of a mutantblood finding permanent quadrants at your age is statistically rare. I think your problem is you rush into things. Vriska and you were _too_ _alike_. You’re both too stubborn to try anything new and too wound up. It’s bad chemistry.”

“Bad chemistry?” you snort.

“You don’t put hydrogen and hydrogen together to get water. You need oxygen and hydrogen in a harmonious bond. You should try going on an _actual_ date instead of doing the horizontal monster mash and coasting along with what happens afterwards.”

“That is some bullshit. Dave and you _never_ went on a date.”

“Dave and I go out on dates all the time. We may not go _out_ but we do fun stuff together, like watching movies, polishing our weapons, or making fun of you--”

You growl.

“The point is that dates are just spending time together in a comfortable setting. What did Vriska and you do together?”

You think outside of the brief afternoons spent together, Vriska and you never did anything. You hated clubs and she hated just sitting around. You wonder if all Serkets are so high strung. “You guys knew this whole time it wouldn’t work out between us.”

“Well, I usually try to keep my nose out of people’s business--”

“Bullshit.”

“— _but_ when Tavros pointed out that its unusual for a troll to spend so much time with his kismesis and not his matesprit, I started to realize something was off.”

“Maybe I should just become celibate.” You sigh.

A large shadow swoops over the city, heading toward your neighborhood. At that wingspan, it has to be Petros. He must hate being in the city; it’s too cramped and the airways are smoggy and restrictive. No wonder he built such a large house out in the countryside.

The reminder of the house jostles your memory. “Shit, I have to talk to Petros.”

“Looks like celibacy can wait for another time.” Jade snickers.

You scowl. “I need his _opinion_ on something. I’m not going to go bump and grind him.”

“Oh come off it, Karkat. Every time you’re around him you start giving him bedroom eyes or car backseat eyes or public bathroom eyes or wherever you two are going to be.”

“Gross! Who the hell would have sex in a public bathroom?”

With the power out, the closest Walgreens is in the Red Quad. You enter it still debating about the erotic excitement versus grossness of public restroom sex. The cashier says nothing but tries not to snicker as they ring up the two boxes of meds and baby oil. When you return to the strider trailer, John and Dave are both scratching and flaking off dried skin. Patches of skin is starting to split and bleed.

“Holy shit. We came just in time.” you say.

“Dave, stop scratching! You’re bleeding!” Jade insists, “Oh gosh. Karkat, take the oil and meds. I’m going to get some gloves and a mask so I can deal with this.”

“I want to find the god who invented parasites and kick them straight in the _dick_.” John mutters.

Late Sunday morning is spent keeping Dave and John from scratching, which is easier said than done. Even with the medication and oil, the rash doesn’t immediately disappear or stop expanding. Jade eventually resorts to taping oven mitts over their hands to prevent scratching. You’re thankful when John and Dave pass out by lunch from exhaustion.

In the early afternoon, the sun comes out and turns the trailer from cold and damp to hot and wet. It’s still pissing rain and you have to empty out the pots and pans. You have a lunch of leftover sandwiches and leave for the Nitram trailer in boots and a rain poncho. Sonny Jr. refuses to leave you alone so you put him on the leash to keep him from the garbage. The Nitram trailer smells strongly of weed and Rufioh sits on the front porch smoking, with soggy cats, dogs, and lusii underfoot.

He sees you walk over and smiles widely. “Here to see my Dad?”

“Not for the reasons _you’re_ thinking.” Rufioh laughs and you roll your eyes. “Is he here?”

“Yeah,” Rufioh says, “in the back.”

You ignore the marijuana fumes and walk around the trailer. Petros is hanging upside down from the tree in the center of the Nitram yard, wings wrapped around him like a slumbering bat. He uses the top slope of his foot to hang off a thick branch. It makes sense that a wild child like him would sleep like this but it’s still an unusual sight. Still, it’s familiar to you. It makes you want to bite, kiss, pap, and do several other things to Petros. 

“Are you going to stand there or do you have something to say?” Petros asks.

You hadn’t realized you’ve been staring for five minutes, like the creepiest troll in the world. You laugh nervously. “Sorry, I was just thinking about something. If I’m disturbing you I can come back later.”

Petros sighs and dislodges himself from the tree. He unfolds his wings, flicking water droplets off of them and staring at you. “I think we have had a…miscommunication.”

“A miscommunication?”

“You seem to think my…tolerance…means we’re friends.” Petros folds his wings down. “We’re not. I’m not here to be distracted. I think if I’m going to stay here, you have to learn that.”

You blink. “What?”

“You know what I mean. Your body language and behavior…is not beneficial to me. It creates tension and drama that I want no part of. So I’m advising you to stop. It’s not beneficial to you or me.”

Not ‘ _beneficial’_? What in the shit is he talking about? You stare at him for a few minutes until you recall what Kankri said to you concerning Petros. The heat rises to your face but your stomach turns with an unsettling confusion. You’re not sure if you want to run away, scream, or vomit. Your brain is firing off with conflicting ideas and moods.

“No. No!” you say, loudly, “ _Gods no_ , Petros!”  

Petros frowns, giving you a scrutinizing stare.

“Listen to me.” you continue, shakily, “I’m not… _interested_ …in you. I like talking to you because you knew my grandfather. You saw a side of him no one else did. My feelings for you are not sexual.” Your heart pounds and you ease back from Petros as your comfort zone shrinks. “I came here to ask if Rufioh told you about your farmhouse.”

Petros is still staring at you looking as distant as ever. “No, but the house isn’t a concern of mine anymore. It was built by a different person and I’m legally dead, so nothing of legal importance concerning it matters to me.”

“It seems that the whole reason you’re here is closure so I thought maybe you would want to know.” Petros doesn’t respond so you continue, “I was also wondering if there any traps or things we should know about wandering around the house. There were a few locked rooms upstairs and we’re still exploring the cellar.”

“I wouldn’t know. If there are traps, Mindfang put them there.”

Sonny Jr. barks, wagging his tail at Petros but you keep a tight grip on his leash. Petros must have this effect on all animals but people are different. You think of Aranea, who must still be spitting poison at her father for his decades-long disappearance. “You know, Aranea has my father’s gospel.”

Petros’s expression remains the same but he slowly looks away. Did he know about your father’s gospel? Is he comfortable with what was written there or that Aranea has it?

What was your father’s relationship with Petros like? You keep trying to recall it but it’s fuzzy and crackling, like a static filled TV channel. Thinking about it too hard gives you a headache. Petros’s current expression doesn’t make you feel anymore confidant about this increasingly uncomfortable interaction.

“She’s currently translating and reading it.” you mutter, “Maybe you could talk about that…” You manage to mutter and then quickly leave before he can respond. You drag Sonny Jr. behind you, ignoring his whining. When you get to the front porch, you hear an iHusk chime.

“Yes?” Petros asks. He pauses and sighs, “I know. I’m still getting adjusted.” There’s a long pause and he says, “I’m not doing anything right now. Most people are sick from parasites. No, I’m fine.” Another pause. “Yeah, I can get online. Give me a minute.”

You walk over to Rufioh, who you notice is rubbing up against the side of the trailer. You cock your head. “Rash?”

“Oh my fucking god I never been so _itchy_ in my fucking life I want to stab something.” Rufioh hisses, breaking through his usually consistent chill.

“Did Porrim give you meds?”

“Yeah, she did.” He inhales on the blunt. “Doesn’t stop the itching though. Tav’s sick as a dog and so is Kurloz. Haven’t had an outbreak like this since…” He pauses. “ _Never_ , I think. Holy shit, this place really has gone to hell.”

“Let’s hope the smell and people vomiting and shitting will dissuade CNN from covering this.” You hear the back door open and close. “Who’s Petros talking to?”

“Not a matesprit, if that’s what concerns you.” You glare at him and Rufioh laughs. “Calm down, Karkat. Dad talks to his moirail and auspistice all the time. I’ve got no idea who they are.”

“An auspistice?” You try to think of anyone who has an active auspistice and come up blank. Auspisticism is one of the quadrants that few seem to bother with these days.

“Are we still talking to the lawyer this Saturday?”

“Of course. I don’t care how long it takes. I want that land.”

You slop from the Nitram trailer and consider where to go next. The Strider trailer most likely still smells like vomit and ointment, which you have no interest in smelling right now. You consider visiting Dirk but you have no idea what to say to him. You don’t have a close enough connection to Dirk to talk about… _this._  

 _But what about Kankri and Dirk?_ you consider, recalling Terezi telling you about their amicable interactions. When you get to your street, you see a news van parked outside of the Vantas-Pyrope trailer. A reporter in a rain coat with ‘Channel 52’ on it knocks frantically at the door, calling for personal interviews and yelling questions. A police car is rushing down the road, heading directly for them. You duck around the side of the trailer at the end of the road and walk through the lawns.

You knock at the back door of the Vantas-Pyrope trailer and Kankri yells from inside, “I told you, I’m not interested in talking!”

“It’s _me_ , fat ass.” You grumble.

“Karkat? Hold on a minute.” Footsteps shuffle to the door and heavy furniture scrapes across the kitchen linoleum. The older mutantblood opens the door and looks groggy and sweaty, as if he’d slept on a bed of broken wood and nails. “I thought you were a reporter. They’ve been harassing us since noon.”

“I can tell. Let me in.”

Kankri lets you in and pushes a table back against the door. The inside of the trailer is absurdly clean, smelling only of Febreeze. It’s incredibly jarring. Outside, you hear a cop and the reporter arguing about amendment rights, journalist integrity, and the right to privacy.

Kankri rolls his eyes and sits on the damaged couch. The coffee table in front of him is piled with books and papers. “They’re all too cowardly to approach Kurloz or get near his family so they’re pestering us for sound bites and opinions. It’s nerve wracking.”

You sit next to him. “The harassment?”

“Not being able to tell the _truth_ , Karkat!” he says, frustrated, “The people deserve to know what’s going on. I can’t even blog about it. All I can do is write what I’m living through and publish it at a later time.”

“You can’t publish it on your blog?”

Kankri shakes his head. “You can be put in jail breaking a police enforced media blackout. It’s considering an obstruction of justice in New Jack City. I’m all for amendment rights but I can’t risk jail time and leave Terezi alone to deal with this. Latula’s illness is taking a toll on her. She’s asleep right now and I know it’s not just from feeling a little under the weather.”

“Any new developments in our coverage?”

Kankri nods. “I’ve been religiously listening to the radio when the batteries allow it. Locally, the New Jack officials are calling the Firearm Overpowering Law—the law that prevents trolls from owning and carrying firearms—into question. The argument is that, as statisticians have been saying for year, that it _causes_ more crime than it prevents by increasing the amount of gunrunning in New Jack which funds organized crimes. There are a lot of promises being lobbed around by several parties, as next year is an election year.”

“What about nationally?”

“We’re still all over the news. Congress is drafting up new anti-organized crime bill that’ll go toward the FPI along with pouring more tax dollars into that front all under the promise of not raising taxes.”

You frown. “Where’s this new federal money supposed to come from then? Fall out of some lobbyists’ asshole?”

“I suspect it will be diverted from other fronts that have been on the forefront of national and local concerns. One of the benefits to this though”—Kankri holds up a green and yellow form—“is that the DD has a fire under his ass to repair things around here. With everyone looking at us, he can’t ignore the conditions we’re living in. The power is scheduled to come back on Monday morning, Tuesday afternoon at the latest. Repairs to our trailers will begin once the power is back on. We’re getting reimbursed from the local government for the damages.”

“So we just have to spend another day in darkness. Great.” You sigh. “The only issue is that we’re still living in toxic shitty mud and the swamp is still overtaking the Ninth Ward.”

“Well, there’s no changing our _environment_ , Karkat.” Kankri says, now filling out the second page of the incident report form. “We have to get used to it.”

You would rather have the mud gone than get used to it. The reporter is still outside talking to the camera about the police’s media blackout and uncooperative nature.

“I’m worried about Dirk.” you say, “I know you two aren’t exactly friends but you seem close. Dave and him can’t really talk about this sort of…thing.”

Kankri pauses but then continues writing. “It’s not a concern of mine, Karkat. Dirk’s not in my quadrants or my relative. The last time we spoke was awkward. I was in an emotionally fragile state and I think I may have made him uncomfortable.”

The fuck does that mean? “Did…you two argue or something?”

“No. The exact opposite.”

He sounds disappointed divulging that. “Do you and Dirk have a…” You stop because you’re not sure if you should ask this question, or if you want to know the answer.

Kankri looks at you with extreme distaste. “I’m not having an _affair_ with Dirk, Karkat. What kind of troll do you take me for?”

“I didn’t _say_ that!” You insist, though your cheeks are hot from the idea of them together. “I don’t know anything about your relationship.”

“No, you don’t, so it’s not your place to speculateon it either.” Kankri snaps, as if your apology has only insulted him further, “Dirk and I are vitriolic friends. We have the same relationship you have with Sollux.”

 _But Sollux and I fucked that one time_ , you almost say before you bite your tongue. You don’t want _that_ little misadventure slipping out. “Dirk needs a friend right now and…so do you.”

Kankri sighs, annoyed. “ _Alright_. Gods, you sound like a terrible afterschool special, Karkat. I’ll visit Dirk if I feel less queasy by evening.” The reporter outside is still talking sounding incredibly passionate. “Hmph. Wait until they find out about Meenah’s hemotype.”

“They haven’t learned yet?”

“No, but they will and things will evolve into an even _bigger_ circus.” He pauses. “That reminds me…Mother sent me something a month ago. I’ve been meaning to show it to you.”

He rises from the couch and goes to the bedroom, returning with a magenta album. The cover is decorated with glittery crabs and fishy and what you recognize as Alternian letters. Kankri sits next to you with the large album.

“ _Gunuros_?” you translate, “I don’t recognize that word.”

“‘Our family’.” Kankri says, “It would be _Galasair_ in Modern Alternian.”

“You speak Modern and Old Alternian?”

“The two aren’t greatly dissimilar, like Italian and Latin really.”

Kankri flips through the album. You see aged pictures of the Condesce in formal gowns and with your grandfather in a matching suit. There’s another of your grandfather in a red and black uniform with the mutantblood sigil on his belt and hefting two sickles connected by a bright red chain. He’s standing on top of a float with other threshecutioner in uniform black and grey. In the backgrounds are swarms of people in black standing on lawns and sidewalks.

“That’s your father in his threshecutioner uniform during a parade for Alternian pride in South New Jack.” says Kankri, “Did you know he was a general?”

“No, I didn’t.” The other pictures in the album show Meenah and Kankri as children. There’s a few of Darkleer sitting in his office or standing by the window, overseeing the Manor during its golden years. It’s hard to imagine the decaying ruins as livable. “Are these the originals?”

Kankri shakes his head. “Mother has those. I didn’t even ask for this but she sent it along with the care package. I’ve been sending her pictures of the trailer, Terezi, the eggs, myself at work…just so she knows that I’m okay now.” He smiles. “Everything is a lot better now.”

You find a picture of the Condesce sitting at a beach in a bikini. She still looks to be in her late twenties. Its nighttime and the moon is overhead. Crowded near the water edge are palm trees with bright purple and blue spotted leaves. The next picture on the page is the Condesce swimming through the clear water during the daytime. You can even see the rocks on the bottom and coral reefs surrounded by bright tropical fish.

“Where are these pictures from? They’re recent.” You say.

“That’s where mother must be living now. She won’t say where but it has to be somewhere far warmer than here.” Kankri shrugs. “Maybe New Fiji. They have a sizeable population of older seatrolls due to their tropical environment.”

You move ahead in the album and see the Condesce in a colorful Dersian turban and kaftan amongst Dersian-Carapaces, iguanas, and humans in a restaurant being served a large meal. Your grandfather is right next to her and on the other side are bodyguards.

You continue flipping through the book, now entering the era that had pictures of you as a child. There are a few with you and your grandfather, including the time he taught you how to swim.

“Where did she get these pictures from?” you ask.

“I guess she exchanged pictures with father all those years they were apart. I haven’t gotten this far in the album. I’ve just been looking at the pictures of father and mother.” He smiles. “You look very adorable, Karkat.”

You turn to the next page and see Sollux, Terezi, and you trick-or-treating as Gamblignant Moon and her Gamblignant Scouts.

“I still don’t remember this.” you mutter.

Kankri shrugs, “As you get older you tend to forget things. I don’t really remember it either, since I was at the height of my drinking problem around then.”

You look at the last picture in the album, which has your younger self as Gamblignant Moon sharing candy with another child. They’re wearing a black jacket and having a mask shaped like a cow skull with a messy red wig. The skull mask has sunken eyeholes that are boring into your skull. You inhale and try to ignore your pounding heart.

 

 

“Karkat?” Kankri asks.

You look at him, open your mouth, but no words come. Kankri gently takes the album from you and every taught muscle in your arms and shoulders uncoils.

He looks at the picture of the sinister mask, frowning. “I don’t…remember anyone wearing _this_ costume.”

“I don’t like it.” You mutter, “That thing. It looks… _evil_.” You don’t care it sounds childish; that mask makes your skin crawl.

Kankri shuts the album. “I don’t know why mother has this picture, but maybe Meenah will know.”

“Have fun with that.” You don’t want to learn about that ghastly mask. You say goodbye to Kankri and return to the Strider trailer.


	3. three in the morning

**== >Stop being Karkat for a while just to be Kankri late that night**

As it turns out, you don’t feel well enough to visit Dirk that evening. In the late afternoon you start experience abdominal pain and cramping like you haven’t felt in years. You spend the night bundled up and riding out the awful pain. At some point you fall asleep and wake up at three. You drag yourself to the bathroom and make an unpleasant discovery by flashlight. You discard your sweatpants, take a shower, and sit on the living room couch. You look at your iHusk, charged for nightly emergencies, and debate about who to call. You should contact Cronus for this sort of situation. You _really_ should, but you find yourself unable to do so.

Instead, you make the stupid mistake of messaging Kurloz.

 

\--caringGnostic[CG] began trolling taciturnClown[TC]!--

 

CG: Wake up, gr9ss mime.

TC: THE FUCK DO YOU WANT

CG: I need t9 tell y9u s9mething.

TC: WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT TO TELL ME AT THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING KANKRI

CG: Y9u kn9w h9w y9u gave me parasites?

TC: IF YOURE GOING TO BITCH AT ME FOR GETTING YOU SICK I GOT NEWS FOR YOU I GOT SICK TOO DICKWAD

CG: Y9u’re the dickwad.

TC: I GOT TAZERED TEAR GASSED KNOCKED INTO THE DISGUSTING MUD AND CONTAMINATED HOW ARE YOU IN A WORSE CONDITION FUCKING DRAMA QUEEN

CG: While I was sick, I must have 6een in the very early stages of pregnancy 6ecause I just miscarried.

TC: WELL

TC: FUCK

TC: NOW I FEEL LIKE A DICK

TC: WHY DIDNT YOU FUCKING TELL ME THAT FROM THE BEGINNING

CG: There’s n9 real etiquette f9r this s9rt 9f thing. Y9u d9n’t lead these s9rts 9f c9nversati9ns with “Hey there, mime. I miscarried and pretty sure it was y9urs 9kay I hate y9u ttyl” and then 9llie 9utie.

TC: “OLLIE OUTIE”

CG: Y9u kn9w what I mean.

TC: NO I DONT

TC: NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THAT MEANS

TC: ARE YOU DELIRIOUS ARE YOU STILL BLEEDING

TC: WHY IN THE FUCK ARE YOU MESSAGING ME IF YOURE STILL BLEEDING GO TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL KANKRI     

CG: I’m n9t still 6leeding. There wasn’t a l9t 9f 6l99d. I c9uldn’t have 6een pregnant f9r m9re than day 9r s9.

TC: TELL YOUR MOIRAIL

CG: I’m n9t that upset. N9t really.

CG: Neither 9f us c9uld aff9rd t9 have children.

TC: I COULD

CG: Kurl9z.

TC: IM JUST BEING HONEST YOU MIGHT BE A BROKE LITTLE MUDCRAB BUT IM NOT

CG: I kn9w y9u’re trying t9 make me feel 6etter as 6est as a pitch can 6ut its n9t necessary. Damn it. I sh9uldn’t have t9ld y9u a69ut this. This is my guilt acting up.

CG: Fuck, this was such a 6ad idea. Why did I tell y9u this? #idiot #IDIOT

TC: KANKRI CALM YOUR SHIT

TC: I HATE YOU BUT WE CAN BOTH FEEL GUILTY ABOUT THINGS LIKE THIS

CG: I guess s9.

CG: W9uld we even want children? Neither 9f us have a g99d hist9ry with mental health. May6e we’d 6e d9ing 9ur kid a fav9r 6y n9t letting them exist. Things w9uld 6e hard f9r them, especially if they were a purple6l99d.

TC: I THINK THATS BULLSHIT

TC: WE KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THINGS BETTER THAN OUR PARENTS

TC: THAT SHOULD COUNT FOR SOMETHING

TC: IF THEY WERE PURPLEBLOOD I WOULD JUST LET YOU RAISE THEM

CG: I d9u6t I c9uld raise a purple6l99d child.

TC: I HAVE MY HANDS FULL HERE AND YOU KNOW MY HEMOTYPE

TC: WE DONT GET ALONG WELL WITH OTHER PURPLES IN OUR SPACE FOR TOO LONG

TC: ITD BE EASIER IF YOU RAISED THEM

TC: ITS NOT LIKE PARENTING BOOKS AND ADVICE DONT EXIST KANKRI

TC: YOU WOULD HAVE TO ACTUALLY GET OFF YOUR WIDE ASS AND WORK FOR IT BUT YOU COULD DO IT

CG: Insult my wide ass s9me m9re and let’s see if I ever give y9u sex again.

TC: YOU WILL

CG: Will n9t. I resisted sex l9nger than y9u tho9ght I w9uld.

TC: YOU ATTACKED MY BULGE FIRST

CG: Y9u enc9ouraged me!

TC: THAT IS SOME BULLSHIT

CG: L99ks like s9me9ne n9t getting sex f9r the next month, dirty mime.

CG: 6y the way, may I suggest names f9r my new nieces?

TC: NO

CG: I think “Felida” is nice.

TC: FUCK THAT IS A GOOD NAME

TC: WAIT

TC: FUCK

CG: Heh.

TC: SHUT UP

CG: N9pe.

TC: FUCK YOU MUDCRAB

 

\--taciturnClown[TC] ceased trolling caringGnostic[CG]!--

 

You chuckle to yourself, watching your kismesis virtually flee from you. You laugh a little louder until you start crying. It’s a dry heaving whimper and no tears come, but you can’t stop for the next ten minutes. When you’re calm, you stare at the ceiling and consider where you are in life. You should call Cronus but you don’t. You let your thoughts stew in your skull, refusing to move from the spot.

You lost another child. You know it’s not your fault but you hate yourself for it. You feel incrementally more like a failure. Would you ever have another egg? You don’t know at this point. You can’t think about children when guilt is still gnawing at you. Would you even want Kurloz’s child?

You ponder over your life, your choices, and decide that…maybe you do. At some point, when the time and the moment is right.

You consider names and then decide on Astrid. It’s a good name for a purpleblood.

 


End file.
